


All This to Say

by shions_heart



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, basically a love letter to Kuroo from myself and Kenma tbh, so much sin, via sin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 15:01:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5379449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shions_heart/pseuds/shions_heart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenma takes a moment to thoroughly appreciate Kuroo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All This to Say

**Author's Note:**

> Do I even need to say it? Inspired, as always, by Gin, this time by her immense love for Kuroo. Honestly, the way she talks about Kuroo makes my heart _melt_ , and I love him all the more because of her adoration. (A lot of my descriptions of Kuroo in this are taken from her headcanons of him [here](http://eicinic.tumblr.com/post/132346092500/hello-gin-i-am-shy-and-went-on-anon-to-tell-you), because they're really perfect and I agree with them 100%.)
> 
> Anyway, this is sinful as hell. I hope you enjoy it!

_"What is beautiful is good, and who is good will soon be beautiful."_

\-- Sappho

 

 

Kenma knows he’s selfish. Kuro calls him kitten, and it’s a fairly accurate description. He’s begs for Kuro’s attention, not with words, but with his actions. He crawls into Kuro’s lap. He flops on top of him when he’s lying on the floor or the couch. He snuggles up as close as possible to Kuro’s warmth as they sleep side by side. He feels safe around Kuro. He feels at peace, at home. But he knows the constant care Kuro gives him has to weigh on the man.

Kuro never complains (he never would). But Kenma doesn’t like how their relationship has shifted to this, to him always being the one to take and take. He feels like a burden, apologizes for it even, though Kuro always assures him that he’s not. But there’s not a push and pull with them anymore. It’s just him pulling and pulling, and sometimes he wishes Kuro would push back, to be selfish just once, to allow Kenma the opportunity to be there for _him_. To show him how much he loves and appreciates _him_. His lion. His stronghold. His Kuro.

They’re sitting on the couch when Kenma finally decides to change things. Kuro is reading something for school, his head tilted to the side to keep his hair from blocking his reading glasses. His lips are pursed, and there’s a tiny wrinkle in his forehead. He looks tired, the shadow of his exhaustion painted beneath his dark eyes. His bottom lip is cracked, raw, a spot of dried blood from all the worrying his teeth have wrought upon it glistening near the center.

But even with all that, he’s still stunning to Kenma. He doesn’t have a model’s face. It’s not one you’d necessarily look twice at on the street. Perhaps you’d see it, think to yourself “huh, he’s handsome” but then he’d fade from your memory. Insignificant and unmemorable. This strikes Kenma as unfair. If people would stop, take the time to _look_ , to _see_ , to observe Kuro the way Kenma does, the way he has every day of his life for the past eight years, they would see how extraordinary he is.

Kenma sits on the other end of the couch facing Kuro. His knees are drawn up to his chest, and he’s long-since abandoned his phone and PSP just for the simple act of watching his boyfriend. _Boyfriend is too simple a word._ Kenma sets his chin on his knees, his fingers gripping his toes, as he wiggles them absently.

If Kenma were to choose a favorite feature of Kuro’s, though, it would have to be his eyes. They’re dark, a brown so dark it looks almost black, except for the trails of gold shimmering through them when the light catches them at a certain angle making them glow a deep amber. His eyes hold innocence, in a way. A _hopefulness_ , a _cheerfulness,_ that Kenma so rarely sees. He never sees it in his own reflection. Nobody really knows how to be hopeful and cheerful anymore, not in a world such as this. But Kuro tries. By God, he _tries so hard._

Kuro looks up from his book, as though sensing Kenma’s gaze. He looks over, and his features relax, his lips twitching upward in a small, crooked smile.

“What?” he asks, voice soft. “Do I have something on my face?”

Kenma shakes his head. Crawling over to him, he takes the book away from Kuro’s hands, putting the bookmark in place before setting it aside. He straddles Kuro’s lap then, settling down on Kuro’s knees before gently lifting the glasses off Kuro’s face and setting them down too. He takes Kuro’s face in his hands, smoothing his thumbs along the high slopes of his cheekbones. Kuro’s hands come to rest at his hips, and Kenma suppresses a shiver.

“Now you do,” he says, before leaning to kiss him.

The kiss is soft, gentle. Kenma tilts his head to deepen it, and he can feel Kuro pressing back, warm and tender. Slowly, Kenma slides his hands up into Kuro’s hair, running his fingers through the black strands, the tangles of it. He grips them lightly, moving his lips to Kuroo’s cheek, his jaw, his neck below his ear, and then further down. Tiny kisses, a faint brush of his lips.

Kuro’s hands move up his back, pushing him closer, more firmly against his chest. He hums softly, and Kenma can feel the vibration against his lips.

“What’s all this for then?” he asks.

Kenma pulls back with a serious look. “You need a break.”

Kuro laughs softly, moving one hand up underneath Kenma’s shirt. Kenma actually shivers this time, as he feels Kuro’s touch trail slowly up and down the knobs of his spine.

“I have a test in two days, Kenma. It’s my worst subject, so I really have to study.”

Kenma purses his lips, shaking his head. “You need a break.”

Kuro sighs, allowing his head to fall back against the couch. “Kenma, I _can’t_.”

Kenma huffs. Kuro is also stubborn. But he can be stubborn too. He leans back, pulling his shirt up and off, tossing it to the side. “You’re so annoying,” he complains, moving to stand so he can tug off his pants as well.

Kuro’s watching him now, his eyes wide. “Uh, Kenma? What are you—”

“It’s okay to be selfish sometimes,” Kenma says, kicking his pants to the side. Dressed now in just his small boxer-briefs (the ones with the stars on them), he moves to climb back onto Kuro’s lap, grabbing the edge of his shirt. He gives Kuro a pointed look. “You deserve to take care of yourself and relax every once in a while.”

“But—”

Kenma glares and Kuro’s protests die on his lips. He inhales shakily, and then nods, lifting his arms so Kenma can pull his shirt off over his head. Kenma does, tossing it beside his own clothes. He leans in to kiss Kuro once more, but Kuro stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“We should move to the bedroom,” he says, his voice low. “It’ll be more comfortable for you there.”

Kenma shakes his head. “I’m not going to be on the bottom this time,” he says. This is for Kuro, for Kuro to be appreciated, to _feel_ appreciated. He’s not going to let Kuro do any of the work this time. It’s his turn to worship at Kuro’s alter, to bathe him in praise, in love.

Kuro’s eyes widen once more, but Kenma doesn’t wait for him to attempt another protest. He kisses him, hard, pressing his chest against Kuro’s. He can feel the pounding of Kuro’s heart, the warmth of his bare skin. His own skin tingles at the contact, growing warmer, as he slides his lips across Kuro’s, setting his hands against Kuro’s waist. Kuro’s hands rest against his thighs, stroking up and down slowly, until tiny goosebumps prickle along Kenma’s skin.

He feels the roughness of Kuro’s lower lip, the crust of dried blood. He opens his mouth, slipping out his tongue to lick along the spot, soothing it until it’s soft once more. Kuro moans quietly, as his lip responds, dropping open, and his tongue tentatively licks against Kenma’s. His grip tightens on Kenma’s thighs, and Kenma resists a smile.

Slowly, he draws away from the kiss. Once more returning to Kuro’s neck, he bites down gently, as he rocks his hips in against Kuro’s. He feels Kuro’s chest lift with his sudden inhale, and this time he does smile, faintly, around the skin he has in his teeth. He bites a little harder, rocking against him again, as he sucks on the spot, making his mark.

“K-Kenma,” Kuro moans on his exhale. His hips tilt up slightly, and when Kenma presses down against it on his third rock, he can feel the hardening bulge in the front of his pants.

He pulls away from the hickey, peppering tiny kisses down along the curve of Kuro’s slender neck to his strong shoulder, and then across the jutting bone of his clavicle. He slides down Kuro’s thighs, dipping his head lower to press his lips down the line of Kuro’s sternum. He slides his hands up, rubbing his thumbs slowly over Kuro’s nipples until they harden and he once again inhales shakily. The hands on Kenma’s thighs tremble, tighten. But Kenma slips away from them to lower to his knees in front of the couch, pushing Kuro’s legs apart so he can nestle between them.

For the first time since he started his ministrations, Kenma takes a moment to glance up at Kuro’s face. His eyes are dark, heavy-lidded and hazy with desire. There’s a flush of red across his cheekbones, and his empty hands grab at the edge of the couch, as Kenma moves one of his own to cup the bulge that’s straining against Kuro’s pants. He rubs his palm over it, slowly, very slowly, and he watches Kuro’s lip catch in his teeth, a faint whimper caught behind them.

He likes looking at Kuro when he’s like this. It’s so rare to see Kuro be the needy one, but it just solidifies to Kenma that this is something Kuro’s been deprived of, and he teases him for a few seconds longer, rubbing his palm in small circles, pressing just a little harder to increase the friction, until Kuro releases his lip with a gasp.

“Fuck, Kenma,” he pants, his fingers curling tighter into the couch.

Fighting a smile, Kenma starts to unfasten Kuro’s pants. He shifts them down his hips, and Kuro lifts off the couch just enough for Kenma to tug them down over his legs and off completely. He tosses them onto the growing pile of clothes, and returns his attention to the pair of lightly soaked boxers in front of him. He palms it once more, dragging his thumb over the clothed erection, as Kuro’s thighs twitch in response, and another low groan emits from Kuro’s parted lips.

Kenma decides to stop teasing him, pulling down the boxers to allow the hardened length to spring free. He wraps his hand around it, sitting up on his knees as he begins to stroke up and down slowly. Kuro hisses, his fingernails digging into the material of the couch. His head is bowed over his chest, and he grimaces as Kenma trails his thumb across the glistening tip, through the pre-cum gathered there.

“K-Ken _ma_.” Kuro’s voice catches on his breath, breaking after the first syllable.

With that voice ringing in his ears, Kenma ducks his head and runs his tongue along the tip he holds in his hand. He slides his hand down the length slowly, following it with his mouth until he can’t take any more. Kuro’s legs clench briefly against his sides, and Kenma can hear the deep, gravelly moan above him. He lifts his gaze. Kuro’s head has fallen back against the couch, exposing the long curve of his neck. It’s flushed as well; sweat beading where his hair meets it. There’s a bruise forming where Kenma bit him before. Kenma gives a small suck and watches the tremor that moves through Kuro’s body, laid out before him like a work of art.

Kenma bathes him with his tongue, pulling back in order to lick up one side and then the other. He gives the head a couple flicks with the tip of his tongue, and Kuro shudders, moans, his fingers gripping the edge of the couch so tightly his knuckles turn white. Kenma can feel his own body warming to the sounds Kuro is making. He feels hot, his pulse thrumming rapidly against his neck, blood rushing through his head and then traveling south at a speed he isn’t used to. He shivers, massaging the base of Kuro’s length then, as he covers it again and begins to bob his head.

Sucking in his cheeks, he gives as much friction as he can, up and down, up and down, until Kuro’s shaking, and he moves his hand to the top of Kenma’s head, pushing him back gently.

Kenma releases him, sitting back on his heels and looking up to meet Kuro’s glazed eyes. He’s staring at him, panting heavily, the rise and fall of his chest moving rapidly. There’s a light sheen to his skin, a thin layer of sweat, and he gives Kenma an apologetic smile.

“I-I’m going to come if you keep doing that,” he says breathlessly, by way of explanation.

Kenma tilts his head, considering this. It’s true he doesn’t want Kuro to come just yet. He’s not done with him. He nods, rocking back up to his knees in order to grab Kuro’s boxers and pull them down further, scooting back so he can remove them completely.

“K-Kenma?” Kuro’s voice is hesitant, questioning, but Kenma ignores it, instead pushing apart Kuro’s legs further, tugging him down the couch a little more so his backside is nearer the edge. He sticks his finger into his mouth then, coating it generously with saliva, before dropping it down between Kuro’s legs to rub his entrance slowly.

Kuro jerks slightly at the sensation, his eyes widening. “K-Kenma!”

“I told you I wasn’t going to bottom,” Kenma reminds him. He pokes the tip of his finger inside Kuro, watches the quake of his thighs. Kuro’s hands return to grip the edge of the couch, and his back arches slightly, his teeth clenched together tightly.

Ducking down, Kenma places a kiss against Kuro’s inner thigh. The muscle is strong there, thick and muscular from years of playing volleyball. The skin is soft, though, and warm, and he licks at it gently before taking a piece of it in his teeth to bite. As he does, he wiggles his finger inside Kuro just a tiny bit more.

“Fuck,” Kuro groans low in the base of his throat.

Kenma pulls back. The spot he’s bitten is an angry red, and he soothes it with his tongue for a moment, before turning his attention back to Kuro’s entrance. He pulls his finger out, replacing it with his tongue. He gives the hole a slow lick and then a soft suck, and Kuro’s thighs jump instinctively, as another curse falls from Kuro’s lips. Kenma’s boxer-briefs have grown tighter, but he ignores this for now, using both his hands to spread Kuro’s legs out further, so he can have more room.

He’s never made this much effort before on anything, he doesn’t think. It’s difficult, pushing his tongue inside of Kuro, sucking against the tense, hot skin, feeling the clench of muscle around him and moving against it. It’s tiring. But Kenma continues, because Kuro is writhing, panting, _moaning_ , and knowing he’s making Kuro feel that good is worth the effort.

“Fuck, Kenma, _Kenma_.”

Kenma moves one hand to wrap it around Kuro’s length once more. He gives it a few tugs, matching the rhythm of his sucks against Kuro’s entrance. Kuro’s sounds grow more desperate, more broken, and he begins to choke out Kenma’s name, over and over. It’s embarrassing, but Kenma keeps his head down, hiding his flushed face in Kuro’s ass, as he licks and sucks until Kuro’s pushing at his head again.

Annoyed, Kenma sits back, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Stop doing that.”

Kuro’s panting too hard to speak at first. He licks his lips slowly, looking down the length of his body to meet Kenma’s gaze.

“But . . . you . . .” He pries one hand from the couch to gesture weakly downward.

Kenma glances down at his lap, seeing the end result of the pooling heat in his body. It’s uncomfortable, but not unbearably so. And anyway, he’s already decided he’s not going to make this about him. No, this is about Kuro, and he’s not going to be selfish. Especially not now; not when he has Kuro so close to that edge.

“Don’t worry about it,” Kenma tells him firmly, before rising on his knees and taking Kuro’s length in his hand once more. He drops his head over it, wrapping his lips around the tip. It’s salty and warm, slick with pre-cum, but he doesn’t dwell on that. He presses his tongue beneath the crease of the head and sucks, hard and fast.

Kuro yelps, his hips bucking off the couch. Kenma places his hands against them, pressing them back down onto the couch to hold him steady. He can feel the quiver of his skin, the tightening of his muscles, and then his mouth is full of hot liquid, and Kuro cries out his name in a broken sob, hand flying up to press against his mouth.

Kenma swallows everything, grimacing only slightly. He pulls away then, sitting back on his heels once more to look up at Kuro. He wipes his mouth on the back of his arm again, smiling faintly at the sight Kuro makes, slumped against the couch, glistening with sweat, the skin of his thighs still twitching in aftershocks.

Moving to stand, Kenma crawls up onto the couch to nestle himself against Kuro. He’s still hard, but he says nothing of it, simply presses a tiny kiss to Kuro’s chest above his heart.

“ _Fuck_ , Kenma,” Kuro breathes after a moment with a shaky laugh. He moves his arm slowly, as though underwater. He places his hand on the back of Kenma’s head, before ducking his chin to place a soft kiss to the top of Kenma’s head. “You went to a lot of trouble. You’re amazing.”

“You’re worth the trouble,” Kenma tells him honestly. He tilts his head back to look up at Kuro. “I love you, you know.”

Kuro smiles, trailing his fingers through Kenma’s hair tenderly. “I know. And I love you too.” He glances down toward Kenma’s boxer-briefs then, his smile quirking into something sly. His other hand comes around to tuck two fingers into the waistband of Kenma’s underwear. “Now . . . let’s take care of this, shall we?”

Kenma swallows hard, nodding after only a moment’s hesitation, and Kuro leans down to kiss him deeply.

**Author's Note:**

> (so in the end it isn't Kenma topping like I said on twitter, but it's still pretty sinful, yeah? Now, if you'll excuse me, I gotta go jump into a pool of ice water . . .)
> 
> http://shions-heart.tumblr.com/


End file.
